Dirty Boogie
by Namesake
Summary: After Voldemort's defeat, things have seemingly settled down, but at Hogwarts, they're heating up. Just why is Harry Potter hugging people? What is this creature that haunts Fridays? And why won't Hermione let Harry sleep in on Saturdays?


A/N: Here's a story to a challenge posted by Toki Mirage. Belated Birthday Tidings to you. I was trying to get it done that day, but other things came up.

* * *

**Dirty Boogie**

_A Harry Potter Fanfic_

"Potter! Unhand me this instant!"

Everyone turned at the irate declaration of one Draco Malfoy to see none other than The-Boy-Who-Lived, one Harry Potter, hugging the other youth-undeclared school rival in a rather tight hug. Finally releasing the pale youth, the dark haired boy's grin could be classified as downright evil as laughter danced in his green eyes. Draco, about to retaliate, had to change his plans as one of Potter's ever more popular growing smoke bombs detonated allowing the brash Gryffindor to make his escape.

Cursing, the Prince of Slythering stalked to the safety of the dungeons; if Potter started to hug him in his own Common Room, rules be damned, someone was going to get seriously wounded or die. He was leaning more towards the latter at the moment.

It had been happening for a few weeks now. Some say it was because of some new concoction that Harry had been testing for the twins. Others say it was because of a Felix Felicius potion gone wrong. Still other whisper about bungled memory charms while a handful of people chalked up the odd behavior to a nargle infestation about the ears. Regardless of how it began, Harry Potter had started hugging people with seeming random abandon.

As dinner wound ever closer, the whispers and gathered more momentum in fervent anticipation. Students eagerly awaited the arrival of the Golden Trio at dinner—they always showed up late.

As if summoned, the doors to the Great Hall opened more than they already were. Casting a Sonorous Charm on himself, Harry declared, "The tally of those hugged today are as follows: 34 from Hufflepuff, 60 Gryffindors, 19 from Ravenclaw—I will get better riddles for you guys, and 23 from Slytherin. The rules today for groups are within five. For individuals, please see me after dinner."

And with that, he cancelled the charm and made his way to his usual spot at Gryffindor Table. There were whoops and groans throughout the hall as various amounts of bets—be it currency or candy; homework help, favours, or other unmentionable things—changed hands. It was a new game for the students to take bets on how many of which House Harry hugged daily. The days were full of laughter and cunning as everyone tried to figure out who Harry's next victims were.

The days had gotten brighter with the shadow of Voldemort removed.

His nights, however, were a completely different story.

* * *

The creature stalked silently down the cobbled street, soft pads making no sound on the dirty stones. These parts of Wizarding society were ignored as the seedier establishments and those equally shady individuals who patroned them thrived. Vicious werewolves, other magical creatures who preyed on good wizarding folk, criminals, drug dealers, and outcast Voldemort supports gathered in pubs, bars, seedy inns and various nightclubs of ranging reputation.

The animal's target tonight was a bar known to cater to the darker criminals and rouge Death Eaters.

He had gone there the last few nights and not done anything; just sat and watched, listening to the people—if they could be called that—laugh about who they had raped and tortured today. Scowling, the creature hissed, and watched as a few plants withered and died. Shit, he'd have to be careful or his instincts would take over.

The seemingly harmless clouded leopard of the Borneo variety yowled happily before it jumped through the window in the bar, going to the bartender and bumping his head against his shoulder.

"What's this'n, Craig?" a patron asked.

"A rogue pet, I think," the bartender replied. "I'd try ta grab him, but who knows what magic'd do ta 'im, 'n' I wouldn't want his value ta decrease if I inadvertently hurt 'im, if ya know what I mean."

The man nodded as he took another swig of his putrid smelling drink. He sneezed, getting the scent out of his nose, and revealing his six centimeter fangs. He was thankful when no one put up a stink about his teeth. Hermione had gone into a fit when she had first seen his animagus, claiming he was an endangered species.

She had no idea how right she was.

He waited patiently for the Death Eaters to arrive; they were leading a meeting tonight about attacking some establishments in Diagon Alley. It took more time than he would have liked, the leaders of the meeting—some half a dozen or more Death Eaters—stumbled into the pub. As they settled down into their tankards. The large leopard yawned, the cat's breath puffing out in the chilled air of the night. But those in the seedy establishment didn't take into account that the building itself was rather warm.

It took the first few coughs and someone passing out for them to notice that something was wrong. But when they turned to leave the found the door blocked by the dark eyed leopard. It hissed at them, death and disease rolling out of its mouth like honey and nectar from flowers. The people closest to the door collapsed; instantly dead while their flesh began rotting before everyone else's eyes.

As the last person collapsed, he breathed a word that was lost on the wind, and the cat left the building.

* * *

"Chester! Seiryn! Look! Chester's back!"

The girl, Seiryn, turned and gave an exasperated sigh. "His name is Patrick! Patrick, Amelie!"

The cat didn't care what his name was at the moment. All he knew was that they were going to put some kind of collar and leash around his neck and they were going to go clubbing. Sure enough, Seiryn appeared from somewhere with a blue collar with a gold bell on it—with a matching blue leash—and exclaimed how wonderful and handsome he looked in it. He preened.

"Shite! I need to change if we're going to bloody well be on time!" Seriyn sighed and made her way to the bathroom, saying something about makeup while the not-leopard settled down and Amelie stripped. What guy didn't appreciate a woman's complexion?

An undeterminable time later, Amelie had to put on her own makeup, the two girls in not enough clothes by most people's standards left the house for their favourite club; cat in tow. Who would bother them when they had a large, beautiful guard with them?

* * *

"Dammit, Harry!"

The Boy-Who-Lived groaned as the loud exclamation reverberated through his head. Much too loud, much too early; he had all the right to sleep in till God knew when on a Saturday. With the rustling about and grumbling from the other boys in the dormitory, Harry knew that his sleeping time was over—regardless of the fact that he wish it not to be.

"What?" Harry muttered, face still in his pillow trying to get all the rest that he could before Hermione decided to show up. Most of the other boys heard "Mrgh?"

"Just how do you do it, mate?" Dean asked.

"Do what?" Harry asked, this time pulling his face out of the pillow. He stared at the fuzzy image of the other Gryffindor. If he put on his glasses, that would be he would be classified as "awake" when he wasn't. Best to prolong that.

"Every Friday," Seamus went on, "we notice that you leave Gryffindor Tower a bit before curfew, and we don't see you again until Saturday morning."

"And?" Harry really wasn't getting where they were going at the moment. The dragons dancing around in his head from drinking a bit too much last night was not comfortable. Although, by the time breakfast was over, it was usually gone thanks to his animagus.

"You always come back with the scent of woman's perfume," Neville shyly added. Harry thought he heard Ron say "among other things" in there but he ignored it with the steadfastness of one who really wanted to sleep another hour.

"I go clubbing," Harry decided to tell them. If they confronted him about it, nothing short of death or an answer was going to get him out of their scrutiny. When they all looked confused, Seamus seemed to have an idea of that statement, Harry elaborated. "Muggle clubbing; you go to a building full of people who wear ridiculous clothes and dance to really loud music with a heavy base beat. They serve drinks, food and light the building with brightly coloured lights and this light that flashes intermittently called a strobe light. And if you tell anyone and I get in trouble I'll hex you so hard you're great grandchildren will feel it.

"Now, I'm going to go back to sleep and let Hermione wake me up after breakfast to study or whatever it is she'll drag me and Ron off to do." And with that he rolled over and went back to sleep.

The boys decided it wasn't worth a family hex to talk about outside of the dorms and headed down to breakfast. They passed Hermione on the way down to the Common Room and Ron winced. Deciding he'd wait for his mates at breakfast rather than Gryffindor Tower, Ron followed the rest of his yearmates to the Great Hall. Thus, the group of boys missed the much later talked about duel in the Boy's Dormitory between Hermione waking up Harry.

"Honestly!" Hermione was saying as she ate her oatmeal. "You need to wake up the same time every day or else it throws off your biological clock."

"Sure," Harry agreed, still not quite awake as he ate a sausage covered in maple syrup.

The owls then chose to swoop in carrying the post. Hermione unfolded her copy of The Daily Prophet--which Harry still regarded as a load of rubbish--and nearly shrieked. As it was, the noise she made was recognized by Harry and Ron.

"What?"

"It attacked again!" Hermione exclaimed, diving into the article.

"What did?"

"Whatever it is that is killing off criminals!" Hermione excitedly replied, shoving the paper in Ron's face. The front page had a picture of a familiar bar. "They said they foudn claw marks on the bar and the door," the witch continued. "Magical Creatures experts are analyzing them to determine if this creature had anything to do with it."

Harry, still scowling at his breakfast as he had been the entire time he was eating it, pouted. It looked like he was going to be confined to Hogwart's grounds for a while.

* * *

If any of you think you know the reference to Patrick and the blue collar and bell, send me a PM and I'll write you a drabble of your choice in a fandom I'm comfortable in as a prize. UltimateChefofDestruction: you don't count--I live with you :P

_posted 26August2009_


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